


Midas

by sabaix



Series: Death Valley [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate universe - Mafia, Blood and Gore, M/M, Psychological Trauma, i kinda did, nothing makes sense, somebody once said: kill your darlings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 14:46:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12061155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabaix/pseuds/sabaix
Summary: Viktor Nikiforov confronts a ghost in a graveyard he created.





	Midas

**Author's Note:**

> Hi~ So mafia AUs are my favourite thing in the fandom for reasons unknown to me. Probably because a nice dude in a suit who smokes expensive cigars and listens to Verdi has some kind of romanticism. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> 1\. Anyway, here is my submission for the second day of [#yoimafiaweek](https://yoimafiaweek.tumblr.com/). The theme was: Markings, Extravagance.  
> 2\. Most of my inspiration came from [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rl3ELiPXFRo) song. <3 I also used the two stanzas because I just love it a lot, ok? + I always wanted to do a song fic.  
> 3\. Comments are love. Comments are life.
> 
> Enjoy~

It wasn’t supposed to end like that.

(First comes the blessing of)

They fell like flies; limp, squished, and dead. Viktor walked through them, careful not to crush anything that was on the floor. Something crashed under his left food, making Viktor take a half-step behind and curse under his breath. The English felt strange on his tongue sometimes, especially when he had to explain the best way to remove the bones. He couldn't remember most words or his grammar would fall to pieces and switch back to his Slavic roots. English was so pretentious with all its useless articles and long or short vowels. Who came up with that anyway? Why would someone complicate their lives with different pronounced sounds? Why not write a word like it's hear—

"All clear, sir."

Viktor hummed, instantly forgetting about his rant about languages. He nodded, signalling the man that he'd dismissed.

"Did you just step on someone's trachea?"

A timid laugh dripped behind him, mixing itself with the blood and gore.

 _'All that you've dreamed.'_ Viktor thought, a small smile bloomed on his face. "Maybe." He offered the stranger, which made him laugh again. How he enjoyed it. How much he wanted it. How much he needed it. "But it might be the oesophagus." Viktor shrugged and turned.

Behind him stood a man, clothed in black, blood and bits of human. An amused smile decorated his pink lips, making him look like a male _Rusalka_. His hair was slicked back with some kind of product, but Viktor couldn't wait to stick his fingers in it and ruin it. Ruin him. His brown eyes were hot chocolate just moved. Yuuri looked smooth and soft. Viktor shared his supposed appearance.

Noone ever believed Viktor was the leader. Noone ever believed Yuuri was his best hitman either. Noone ever believed until they stared down the barrel of a loaded gun, their only comfort a pair of beautiful eyes and a sinister grin. Then the explosion came, the bullet pierced skin and the hearts stopped.

Noone believed until they were convinced.

Viktor didn't believe either.

Yuuri did.

(But then comes the curses of)

Yuuri disappeared when Viktor was walking down a path of severed limbs and cursed gold. No letter followed his departure, no kiss was pressed on Viktor's wound and no ruckus was created along the ranks. Like he never existed. One second Yuuri was beside Viktor's throne holding his sword and the next Viktor was alone in a throne room he didn't really want.

The kingdom was in ruin and the executioner ran away with the treasury.

"What do you have in there?" The man asked, still grinning like nothing changed.

But something did.

Yuuri was back.

 _'Diamonds and rings.'_ His first thought almost flew past his lips, but Viktor pressed them down stubbornly. "Nothing." He offered instead, tearing out a confused expression from the man, his man. "Nothing important." He moved his arm to the side and opened his palm. Hundreds of sparkling stones fell on the corpse at Viktor's feet. Some of them stuck to the coagulating blood, some bounced on the ground. A golden ring rolled down the dead man's chest and clink-clanked on the ground, and then fell into a small pool of blood. "Just junk I found."

(Only at first did it have its appeal)

Junk that had been beautiful when they started their collaboration. In the beginning, Yuuri always smiled when Viktor brought him proofs of his successes. From all the presents he received over the years, Yuuri had three obvious favourites: one was some Harry Winston bracelet, only held together by soft silver and diamonds, who was stolen from a jewellery in New York because it reminded Viktor of Yuuri's body in the mornings; another was a Mikimoto necklace with pink and white pearls ripped off of a dead woman's neck because she suggested she was better than his boring Japanese friend; and the last was a Van Cleef & Arpels earring in a form of a paradise bird whose pair was lost in a Russian sewer because they were too busy to run to care. He kept them close to his person and even closer to his heart.

Viktor never realised when all his gifts became nooses and handcuffs.

His man always said that Viktor was always so perceptive about everything but Yuuri himself.

(But now you can't tell the false from the real)

His man flicked out of existence for a second too much. His image faded a small bit, allowing Viktor to see a swarm of insects gathering around, hungry of death and decay. Then the form flashed back, clearer and closer than before, staring Viktor down. Looking at his Yuuri, Viktor asked himself why was he still around, why was he still doing it, why were they still...

(Statues and)

 _'Empires are all at your hands,'_ Yuuri told him sometimes, when nights were a little too dark for his liking and mornings didn't banish the night's pull on him.

"And you have me, Viktor." Said the whispers, back when they were in Moscow.

Back when Yuuri stayed.

"You'd always have me, Viktor." Said the ghost now.

(Water to wine)

What good was wine when it was incapable of drowning any feeling?

(and the finest of sands)

What good was power when you had noone to share it with?

Except maybe the ghosts.

(When all that you have's)

"Don't ignore me." His man said, walking over a body whose upper half was turned towards the skies and lower half was turned towards hell. He had Yuuri, he always had Yuuri.

 _‘Turning stale and it’s cold,_ ’ His Yuuri was cold and dead like the corpses he was walking over. His Yuuri was before him, flickering out and inside reality while walking towards him. Viktor still had his hand extended, a golden band on his ring finger.

Yuuri's hand was cold when his nails touched Viktor's too pale skin. The man breathed in, hard and quick, bracing himself for some kind of impact. Yuuri was before him, smiling like always, bloodied like always, and unreal as always. His man turned to gold in Viktor's cursed hands and now he was falling apart once more.

It wasn’t supposed to start at all.

_Who can you trust, Viktor Nikiforov?_

Yourself is no longer an option.

(Who can you trust.)

 


End file.
